


you're a poem of mystery; you're the prayer inside me

by hihoplastic



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-18 10:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihoplastic/pseuds/hihoplastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Eat this," he says, already tearing off a piece of bark. River eyes him sceptically. “S’good! Like toffee."</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're a poem of mystery; you're the prayer inside me

**Author's Note:**

> \- inspired by a photograph; original post [here](http://amillionmillionvoices.tumblr.com/post/50534005515/7000stars-winter-wonderland-by-oskarpall)  
> \- title from "faded from the winter" by iron & wine

She watches from the tree-lined road as he ducks into the forest, returning moments later with a branch in his hands.

"Eat this," he says, already tearing off a piece of bark. River eyes him sceptically. “S’good! Like toffee." He pushes it toward her again, and she takes it this time, hesitantly licking at the top. It’s sweet like caramel, and she licks a stripe up the side, still unsure.

Beside her, the Doctor chokes, and River looks up, concerned until she sees the flush down his neck that isn’t from the cold. The Doctor mock-flails and snatches the branch back from her.

"I was enjoying that."

"I noticed," he grumbles, but takes her gloved hand in his and pulls her along, gesturing to the trees and the speckled buildings in the distance. He tells her stories, of the past and the future, where the planet’s been and where it’ll go. She leans into him, her free hand on his arm, and likes the way he stumbles or giggles when she presses a kiss to his jaw. He turns and smiles, his expression so raw, so full of joy and sadness that she can’t quite bear it, not this young.

So she looks up at the canopy, branches dark against the snow like the ribbons of time she sees when she shuts her eyes. He continues to speak, voice a low hum in her ear as they wander. Everything is still, and wide open. The wind nips at her face and she can hear the branches creak under the weight of winter, but she isn’t cold, not inside, not when there’s room to run and fall and fly if she wanted; room to land on soft ground like memory foam, the snow contorting to her curves. She can breathe here, not like Stormcage, where the walls are pinched and the light flashes and sometimes she swears the bars move, closer and closer until they’re over her bed and she’s afraid to exhale as if the air itself were a live wire.

She wonders if he knows. If that’s why he takes her to so many places with unending skies and delicate gravity. If it’s the reason he loves fields and picnics and barren moons and loathes to visit caves or temple grounds or anything that makes him feel large.

Out here, they’re as small as they want to be, barely freckles on a pale-faced landscape. Two people with no one to save and nothing to prove. She quite likes that idea, and when she tells him so, he smiles and taps her nose with a finger.

"You never have to prove anything to me," he says gently, tucking a loose strand of hair back into her hood. She catches him off guard with a kiss that says the same thing. He curls into her, one arm around her waist as he pushes her back against a tree, his body blocking her escape. If he were the only cage she’d ever known, she’s not sure she’d ever leave. 

He pulls back with a smile, face flushed and eyes bright. She’s about to kiss him again, when ice melts suddenly against her skin, and she gasps. The Doctor giggles, jumping away as she wriggles snow out from between her breasts. “Doctor!"

He laughs, head thrown back and eyes closed and she can’t be truly mad. She grabs a handful of snow from the ground, and he backs away, hands outstretched. “River. River, what are you doing? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—"

She hits him squarely in the face, giggling as he splutters. “Oi!"

River shrugs. “You asked for it."

Wiping a hand over his nose and mouth, he glares at her petulantly. "I did no such thing!" She arches an eyebrow. "Okay. Maybe I did, a bit. But my _face,_ River!" 

She smirks, until she notices he’s packing together another snow ball, and her eyes widen. "Doctor…"

It hits her in the shoulder with a thwak. He grins, rocking on his feet, staring her down. Then he takes off, skidding through the trees and stumbling over the deep snow, and River follows, shouting and returning his poorly aimed snowballs with expert precision, missing only on purpose. When she finally catches up to him, they’re both breathless and red-faced and she tackles him to the ground. Their bodies indent the snow and he pushes back her hood reverently, smiling, hands cupping her cheeks.

When he kisses her, he tastes like rainwater and caramel and the promise of days to come.


End file.
